


i opened a box full of secrets, where the strongest of locks couldn't keep them

by notthebigspoon



Series: Amaryllis [14]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel Pagan is a GQMF and Hunter desperately wants to grab that tie and kiss him stupid right the fuck now. Nobody will mind, right? Right?! </p><p>Title taken from The World Belongs To Me by My Darkest Days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i opened a box full of secrets, where the strongest of locks couldn't keep them

Angel Pagan is a GQMF and Hunter desperately wants to grab that tie and kiss him stupid right the fuck now. Nobody will mind, right? Right?! 

But then Theriot bumps into him, muttering a not unfriendly, “Move it Pence.”

He remembers that he's on the team plane and yeah, probably somebody _would_ mind if he started molesting someone before their very eyes. He gives Theriot a sheepish smile over his shoulder and apologizes, which Theriot waves off, before moving down the aisle, eyes scanning for a decent seat. He nudges Pagan's shoulder with his hip and takes a seat two rows back from him, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. He breathes slow, deep, wills himself to calm down.

It's a few minutes (and an outburst from Lincecum at the back of the plane that everyone not so subtly ignores) before he's calmed down enough that it feels safe to move his backpack out of his lap and drop it into the floor.

He's alone in his row until after they've taken off for St. Louis. When they're up in the air though, the game of musical chairs starts. No one can sit still with at least one or two players finding a different seat every few minutes. Mostly he watches Sheldon be crazy on his tablet and half waves at people that acknowledge him. He gets out of his seat once halfway through the flight for a trip to the can and he takes the chance to steal a glimpse of Lincecum. He's curled up to Barry Zito, fast asleep with tear stains on his cheeks. He looks like a child and Hunter hurts for him, meeting Zito's eyes and nodding before looking away

On the trip back to his seat, Vogelsong grabs him long enough to give him a noogie and the other outfielders make calls for a purple nurple. Hunter nails Vogelsong with an elbow to the gut and returns the noogie before twisting out of his arms and stumbling back into his seat. First Pagan and then Blanco lean back over the seats and squeeze the back of Hunter's neck, telling him good job and it makes Hunter feel warm all over.

It doesn't help with the urge to grab Angel's tie and kiss him, so he just manages a tiny smile before curling back up in his seat and grabbing his tablet again. He will not think of the mile high club. He will behave himself until they reach St. Louis. At least, he thinks he can. He thinks he can, he thinks he can, he thinks he can.

He does, by keeping entirely to himself for the rest of the flight. When they get on the bus to the team hotel, he sits by himself and when they reach the hotel, he hides in the corner while the travel secretary sorts out room assignments and keys and per diems. It's all giving Hunter a headache and he's grateful to book it up to his room and change. He doesn't feel like going out tonight and he neglected yesterday's workout, he needs to make up for it.

When he's changed and has headed back down to the lobby in search of the gym that he'd been told about, he's nearly bowled over by Lincecum in the guy's rush to get out of the hotel. Hunter frowns when he sees... shit, Yadier Molina, leaning out the window of a car, gesturing. Lincecum climbs straight into the back of the car and Hunter blinks. Huh. Well that's different. He wonders if he wants to know and quickly decides that he very much does not.

What he doesn't know can't get him in trouble with the wrong person.

In the gym, he pushes his ear buds in and picks a machine, losing himself to Sick Puppies. His feet hit the belt of treadmill in time with the beat and there's no one else in sight he sings along, winded but happy. His entire body had been vibrating with pent up energy after the plane ride and he enjoys the pleasant ache that's building up in his muscles. 

He uses it, pushing himself from machine to machine until he's done a full workout and his body's screaming at him to cool it. It feels _amazing_ and he's maybe a little slaphappy, laughing at himself and the way his legs feel like jelly underneath him as he throws a towel around his neck and walks to the elevator. It really is the little things that make your day.

The elevator reaches his floor and he goes to his room, heading straight for the shower to wash the stink of sweat off, letting the hot water soothe his muscles and breathing the steam in deep. The hotel body wash, which he will steal every bottle of, leaves him fresh and fruity. Ooh. Now Hunter wants IHOP. 

He's got clean pajama pants on and he's rubbing a towel over his head, considering what to order from room service, when someone bangs on the door. Insistently. Repetitively. He drops the towel and yanks a t-shirt over his head, yelling at the door, “Yeah yeah, I'm coming, keep your pants on!”

The knocking doesn't stop and when he yanks the door open, glaring, he sees Angel and Gregor standing in the doorway. Gregor is grinning. “You did not say that last night. In fact, I think most of what you said involved removing clothing.”

“I said no such thing.” Hunter mutters, turning back into his room but leaving the door open behind him. He scoops up the towels and dirty clothes from the floor, carrying them into the bathroom. The towels he hangs up and the clothes he folds, placing them on the counter. He can hear the door shut, hears them whispering, what they're saying not discernible over the sound of the television that's turned off a moment later.

When he steps back out, Angel looks calm but Gregor looks disappointed. His shoulders are sagging and he's chewing on his lip, “So... I guess you have changed your mind. About this. Us.”

“No. I didn't, I mean-” Hunter blinks and then shakes his head. He sits on the bed, resting his arms on his elbows. Blanco and Pagan don't move from their spot in the narrow little hallway to the door. “I.. I just. I'm sorry guys. I'm not... I've never, with any guy much less two. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how I'm not going to screw it up.”

“That's what this is about?” Blanco frowns and then he sighs and shakes his head. When he walks forward, he nudges Hunter to sit up and scoot back and then climbs straight into Hunter's lap. Same as he had before, he pulls Hunter in and kisses him until the tension drains out of his body. A hand, presumably Pagan's, moves over Hunter's hair and around the back of his neck, squeezing and rubbing. “Angel told me about your freak out during the game. You're not a toy. We want you. Right Angel?”

The answer comes not with words but another kiss, leaving Hunter breathless and panting and deciding that talking is highly overrated. He sprawls back, pulling Gregor down with him and fisting his hands into the man's hair as he hauls him in for another kiss. Man or woman, kissing is the same. Well... he's got one mouth on his lips and another on his neck and there's four hands. Maybe things are a _little_ different but it's the kind of sensory overload that Hunter can get on board with.

“Too much clothes.” Angel mumbles against Hunter's neck and Hunter turns his head, waiting until Angel looks up before lunging in for a hard kiss. “Better. Share, both of you.”

“Always complaining.”

Hunter snickers and pushes Gregor over onto the bed, sitting up to yank his shirt off. When he's pitched it into the corner, they've both done the same and they're just... staring at him. He looks down at himself, feels his cheeks growing red. “What?”

“Nothing. S'beautiful.”

They kept saying things like that last night, low and breathy and it had made Hunter mewl and twist between them. It's different, this time. Angel sounds almost reverent as he brings a hand up and runs it over Hunter's abs, gripping his hips and pulling him forward. His breath ghosts hot against Hunter's skin and when his fingers hook into the waistband of Hunter's pajamas, fuck if it doesn't make Hunter _whimper_. He kisses and he bites and it makes Hunter think. 

He shakes his head and pushes Angel back. The man looks puzzled for all of three seconds before Hunter is dropping to his knees and crawling forward between Angel's legs. He mirrors Angel's actions, kissing and biting, hands running up Angel's legs and gripping his thighs. They did this for him last night, now it's his turn.

Gregor's letting lose a stream of Spanish that Hunter doesn't understand but it sure sounds filthy. He thinks that maybe he should be blushing but he's not, it just spurs him on and he tugs at Angel's shorts. The older man lifts his hips and the shorts slide off easily. Angel's hard and his eyes are dark and he's panting, every single thing about him broadcasting how much he wants Hunter and it's kind of intoxicating.

He gets a shaking hand around the base of Angel's cock and thinks okay, he can do this, just do what he knows he himself likes. He licks and nips at the skin, mouths at him before flicking his tongue over the head and taking Angel into his mouth. It's different, almost weird, but it's not unpleasant. Angel's fingers tangle into his hair, tugging and guiding his movements. 

There's movement and he feels Gregor behind him, lips brushing over the bare skin of his back and fingers hauling down Hunter's pajama pants until they're around his knees. He breathes against Hunter's neck, biting at his ear and he's whispering, “Gonna let me?”

Hunter pulls off, panting, and nods, glancing over his shoulder. “Fuck... fuck, yes, please.”

“Stop distracting him, he's busy.” Angel mutters. Hunter laughs. Really, before these two, Hunter never laughed during sex. He takes Angel's cock back into his mouth. There's a barely audible click of a bottle cap. A slick finger rubs against him and then presses inside and his hips jerk back. One finger becomes two and it makes him duck his head down and suck hard. Angel's hips jerk, pushing his cock into Hunter's throat and oh, Hunter _likes_ that.

He learns something new about himself every day.

When Angel comes, he pushes at Hunter's shoulder but the only movement Hunter makes is to rock his hips back against Gregor's fingers. He pulls off of Angel, spits at the trash can and he's scarcely done it when Angel is pulling his hair, leaning down for a kiss that's almost violent, tongue and clashing teeth. Two different hands close on Hunter's cock, fingers lacing and bringing him off with a sharp, wordless cry. Gregor's fingers slip loose. He's panting, hand moving slickly on himself. There's a low growl of Hunter's name and a warm wetness on Hunter's back.

“Well. So much for that shower I took.” Hunter mumbles, slumping forward and resting his cheek on Angel's thigh. 

“Take another one. I'll go with you.” 

“Shower's not big enough.”

“Then we'll take turns. Hurry up.” Gregor chuckles, smacking Hunter's ass. That's fair enough, he's the one that just got semen splashed over his skin.

He hauls himself to his feet and walks into the bathroom on shaking legs. They follow him and he shakes his head. “I told you guys, the shower's not big enough.”

“You did. But you didn't say we couldn't watch you.” Angel says, the picture of innocence. Hunter ain't buying it.

He showers... _again_ , and wanders into the bedroom. The shirt and the pants both are a loss and he kicks them into the corner, grabbing a fresh set out of his suit case. He's gonna have to get some laundry done tomorrow. He climbs into bed after dressing, head sinking into the pillow and he's pretty sure he might fall asleep before they're out. He does, waking only when they jostle him and a glance at the clock tells him that their cleanup was only a few minutes, clearly just a perfunctory one. They're both dressed in their boxers and Gregor in a t-shirt as well. Gregor pushes at Hunter until he's in the middle of the bed and they climb in on either side.

“S'not gonna work. We're too big.”

“Stop whining, we'll make it work.” Angel chuckles, and he does, pulling Hunter over until he's practically on top of Angel, half over his body with one leg between both of Angel's. He's boneless and this is actually pretty comfortable. It'll work. He tucks his face into the man's neck, mumbling when he feels Gregor press up behind him and wrap an arm around his way. “See? Told you.”

“Yes, you're very bright, now shut up.”


End file.
